The Last One Standing
by AreiaCannaid
Summary: Together they fought a deadly battle for their world, but only one of them made it out alive. (A short collection of drabbles focusing on each of the ninja if they were that one.)


**The Last One Standing**

 **A/N:** This was a prompt that a friend gave me and I couldn't resist. It's a bit of a _what if_ kind of story. I had a great time puzzling out what each of the ninja might do if they were the only one left, and hope that it proves as enjoyable to read as it was for me to write.

 **Summary:** Together they fought a deadly battle for their world, but only one of them made it out alive. (A short collection of drabbles focusing on each of the ninja if they were that one.)

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 **The Last One Standing**

.-.. .- ... - | - -. . | ... - .- -. -.. .. -. -. **Jay** -. -. .. -.. -. .- - ... | . -. - | - ... .- .-..

It takes him months to stop breaking down every time he thinks of them, remembers them—and longer still to decide he can continue on.

When he does, he tries to live like how he knows they would have wanted him to. He fights for those in need, does a little inventing, and dabbles in poetry. He works hard to make the world a better place in whatever ways he can. He tries to smile for them.

Always he finds himself unconsciously looking, but never quite finding, the level of love, friendship, and connection that was once a part of him.

Often, when he's alone, he talks to his friends. He shares his thoughts, his joys, and his sorrows—half hoping, half believing, that some way, somehow, they can still hear him…wherever they are. _Sometimes, he even thinks he hears them answer back_. He wonders if he's crazy; then simply shrugs it off because it hardly matters anymore if he is.

.-.. .- ... - | - -. . | ... - .- -. -.. .. -. -. **Cole** -. -. .. -.. -. .- - ... | . -. - | - ... .- .-..

He tattoos their symbols into his back and carries the weight of them wherever he goes—the weight of their stories, their hearts.

He couldn't save them, couldn't stop fate, but he tries to make up for it now by saving others… It will take him years, he thinks, to save enough to match the brightness and the price of the friends he knew, his family—but he wouldn't have it any other way. It's only in doing what they used to, in fighting for others, helping others, that he really feels anything anymore. He doesn't smile much—the only reason he ever did before was because of them.

He never stays still for very long, he can't afford to. He often takes jobs as an official officer of the peace in the day and wanders alone and nameless in the night to the same ends. He tries to stick around; to be there for as many people as he can—but that never stops him from accepting the more dangerous missions. If he's honest with himself, those are the missions he likes the best…after all _, he really should have died a long time ago._

.-.. .- ... - | - -. . | ... - .- -. -.. .. -. -. **Zane** -. -. .. -.. -. .- - ... | . -. - | - ... .- .-..

He dedicates himself to the cause they used to live for: of doing what's right and helping those who need it. Though now he lives, fights, and works alone. Deep down, he knows that his family were really the only people who had ever understood him completely, accepted him for who he was without thought or effort. He'll always be a bit of an oddity to everybody else.

He carries their memory with him always—and finds comfort in it. But sometimes the illusion shatters in the night. After all, what are memories compared to living breathing beings? Only an echo, a shadow.

It's then the pain of those memories becomes almost too great to bear, too painful to hold; and he finds his finger hovering over his memory switch. The only thing holding him back from the peace of oblivion is the knowledge that he is better for having known them, better for remembering; the pain of their loss is better than never having known them at all. And because a part of him knows that, as long as he remembers, they'll still live on; _live on inside of him, if nowhere else._

.-.. .- ... - | - -. . | ... - .- -. -.. .. -. -. **Kai** -. -. .. -.. -. .- - ... | . -. - | - ... .- .-..

He wanders from place to place, never staying anywhere for very long; staying means getting close to people. He doesn't have any pieces of his heart left to give to anyone in that way anymore—it had always belonged to them.

He loses himself in the counterfeit comfort of a good-time: scamming, gambling, playing, fighting in illegal rings, and picking up odd mercenary jobs—living only in the moment.

Often, he helps people in trouble: the lost, the persecuted, the hunted, the outnumbered, the weak. He does it because it is as much a part of his nature now as fighting is. It is all he knows. He throws himself into any of these battles with reckless abandon—after all, he really has nothing left to lose.

Sometimes he finds himself waking up from a deadly battle or mission, surprised his heart's still beating. He'll pick himself up then, and continue on his way. Always on those occasions, it isn't relief or joy that fills him, but rather a slight, dull, sense of disappointment that he's made it through again, that he's still alive… _when they are not…_

.-.. .- ... - | - -. . | ... - .- -. -.. .. -. -. **Nya** -. -. .. -.. -. .- - ... | . -. - | - ... .- .-..

She doubts that she'll ever truly get past the pain. Deep down, she knows that she'll always feel their loss, their absence, like a cold ache in her heart. How could she not; it is as if she's cut out parts of herself—they had been that close. They were always there during her best and ever ready to support her during her worst. They meant the world to her and they'd saved it for everyone else.

It is in their honor that she creates an organization of ninja and samurai dedicated to carrying on their work and defending Ninjago. She leads her new team and colleagues in their memory. She leaves a candle burning in her window every night for them.

She never breaths a word about her loss, but, often, finds herself staring at her cluttered desk. It's where she keeps all the little odds and ends that once belonged to each of them. It's all she has left. Sometimes, when she's alone, she picks up the individual pieces to cradle in her hands— _as if she's broken through time itself and she's holding them again._ Then she closes her eyes as she tries to call up their faces, their voices, and their smiles.

.-.. .- ... - | - -. . | ... - .- -. -.. .. -. -. **Lloyd** -. -. .. -.. -. .- - ... | . -. - | - ... .- .-..

It takes years for him to grow accustomed to their absence, to the loss. It takes even longer to accept it and try to move on.

Still sometimes he forgets; he'll be caught up in a question, a story, something funny, a witty quip, and he'll call out their names and start to share—forgetting that they are no longer there to hear. Always, when that happens, he'll trail away into silence, his smile turning sad as he remembers.

He dedicates himself to training and study as he grows to take Wu's place. He becomes a Sensei in his own right, and works to train students of his own.

He decides to write their story, the story of the time they shared together; that way they'll always be remembered, and he can put into words the affection and regard that he never quite took the chance to voice aloud. It gives him mixed feelings to record their journey. There is a quiet joy in reliving the memories; a joy and peace that is only overshadowed by longing and the bitter knowledge that this is all they are now: _memories_.

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 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! I hope you all have an awesome rest of the week. Don't hesitate to share your thoughts. I'm an aspiring writer who is always looking for ways to improve, so constructive criticism is welcome.

-Kazi

 **~ATGTJ~**


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